21st Century Romeo and Juliet
by shika hiiragizawa
Summary: I had my life perfectly (well, not 100%) arranged. My priorities: God, my family, my career, and then my friends. Oh, and money, of course. I plan to get a fortune and live a life I want near the beach. Nothing else matters. So why meet him at a... bar, of all the unromantic places in the world?


21stcentury Romeo and Juliet

shika hiiragizawa

shika: Hey y'all! This is another one-shot and I pray you'd all like it somehow. :) Enjoy!

O.O

It was love at first sight.

Murder me for using such a cliché to describe what I feel, but who could stop fate, cupid, destiny, or whoever is responsible for love and attraction, from weaving our paths together? Who could even see or talk to fate to tell him/her/it to just stop messing with our lives, and to tell uhm…_it_ to just make our hearts stop racing at just the sight of someone?

He looked like he was alone, the quiet one in the mass of people who were all laughing, drinking and smoking. He was at the edge of the round table, ignoring the girls who wanted to start a conversation with him. The guys beside him nudged him, half-envious at the attention he received, and half-angry because he didn't even respond to the girls. But he ignored them as well, his hand resting on a half-finished bottle of beer, like it was his only companion. He looked away when the person beside him with dark blue hair (how the heck did he manage to have that?!) nudged him particularly hard in the ribs. That was when our eyes met.

I didn't even know his name, and yet, I fell hard. I feel like I've plunged to the deepest depths of the Pacific, and left my mind hanging on the shore. When I saw him, all traces of civility and rationality was stolen from me. OK, not really stolen, because I wasn't sure if I had it in the first place. So, to clarify, all _faint_traces of civility were gone.

In short, I was in love.

Maybe I am being too ahead of myself, but, when I saw his chocolate-brown eyes, and how deeply they drowned me in… I knew him already. And I think he knew me too, because he was staring right back at me with the same expression I think I was wearing.

Who thought that being dragged by Tomoyo (my party-crazed best friend) to a bar would lead to this, after thousands of other invitations that I've turned down? I became suddenly grateful for the tons of e-mails that became spam, for her text messages that overflowed my inbox, from her teases that I should just come, even _once_, to a party. I only said yes because she promised (with her pinky finger) she would STOP bringing me to parties if I had just attended this one. Of course, I really didn't believe her because this was the third time she did it, but I still went because she was bugging me non-stop. Little did I know.

Little did I know.

What if I went to another party? Would he be there? Or what if she didn't make her promise and I didn't come? Would I still see him? Oh, but oh, he's already here! Why think of 'what ifs?'

Look, this may seem too shallow or too stupid, but who cares? Why do people like Romeo and Juliet so much, then? This is pretty much the same situation. And for one thing, I don't think we are going to get married anytime soon. This is the 21st century, after all.

He raked a pale hand across his chocolate bangs, making it messier before he shot me a grin that warmed the very cockles of my heart. And you know, girls were supposed to smile, but, but… I could only…

I let the crowd break our eye contact as the people began to dance in tune to the new Rihanna song.

Please shoot me now for being so shy.

Yes, I am disappointed at myself, and I am more than angry for losing sight of him, but even I can't believe I feel something for him!

Even I'm thinking I'm too shallow.

Look at it this way: I always believed that love was a long, tedious process. You know, you actually have to exert tons of effort for it to work. You have to get to know the person and actually spend time with him before your heart starts to run a marathon. You actually have to_have_ commitment. But a minute ago, with his eyes gazing into mine –

Seriously, Sakura, you think he feels the same way you do?

Are you _retarted_? No one would want you. Not after everything that happened.

My cheeks were getting wet in such a public place that I had to navigate myself out of the human traffic and find the exit. The huge sign in red, by the way, was glaring at me from the very opposite of the room. Why the hell is fate playing cruel tricks with me? Have I accumulated so much bad karma from my past lives that I deserve to always get hurt?

I had my life perfectly (well, not 100%) arranged. My priorities: God, my family, my career, and then my friends. Oh, and money, of course. I plan to get a fortune and live a life I want near the beach. Nothing else matters. Because nothing _should_. Because they don't make me matter. So why meet him at a... bar, of all the unromantic places in the world?

A Cobra Starship song was up, and everyone was dancing and drinking and laughing and flirting around that it was actually hard to move from my spot. The scent of sweat and alcohol was nauseating. I mean, seriously, how could people stand the _stench_? And just in time to my complaint, a sticky, sweaty, stinky back pressed against mine, and I fought the urge to barf. _Geez_.

I began to pray to God. Just please, _please,_ let me get away before I get my heart stolen. Or before I die in this living hell. I just want to leave before I murder my heart again.

The warm hand on my wrist wasn't letting my wish come true anytime. It was the grip I wished for so much, the one that wasn't too lax that you could let go easily, and the one that wasn't too tight that it would make your hand go pale. I wanted to look at him, but my cloudy eyes weren't such a good thing to see, right?

But what am I supposed to do? Look away until he leaves?

As if sensing my emotions, he quickly withdrew his hand, and yes, I did feel disappointed.

"I'm sorry," he said gruffly, "I just…"

There was suddenly someone yelling from the middle of the crowd that the people were moving away and pressing towards both of us. Was there a stampede- _Ouch!_ My foot! What the hell!

"Get off me, you buffoon!" it was a man's voice, booming from the very center of the platform. Seriously, it wasn't helping that everyone seemed to be backing away from the center and pressing people to the walls, especially those near it (e.g. me and mystery guy).

"Oww!" someone was pressing my breast with his elbow. I couldn't blame the person because no one could exactly know anyone's body parts in this mess of bodies, but hey, it was painful! And to top it all off, something heavy was on my arm. Someone's bag, maybe? Geez, what was inside it? Gold bars?

The shouting in the middle of the dance floor was getting louder and louder, and it seemed like the people around were beginning to chant as well. Imagine Pacquiao's boxing match, without the proper seating arrangements.

"I'm sorry again," he whispered in my ear, as he suddenly appeared in front of me, and was awkwardly pressed to my body that I could smell his manly scent. It smelled of soap and some kind of perfume. It actually smelled kind of… _nice_. He put his arms around me, trying his best not to touch me as he began to edge our way out of the crowd. I seriously cannot believe it. He was pulling me out of this mess, and he didn't even know me.

As we moved, he tried his best not to cross some invisible line of personal space he created between us, but with the pushing and pulling of people, well… we were packed tighter than a can of sardines. And I felt very, very nervous. I could feel every part of his body in line with mine, and… I really can't put to words how I felt. Of how embarrassed I was because I think he could feel how my heart hammered inside my chest, like it was going out of my ribcage.

And how I could feel the same rhythm of his heartbeat.

I wanted to speak, but somehow, my tongue and my throat were being very uncooperative today that I suddenly ran out of saliva to actually articulate anything. I felt like a rag doll as I was being led outside the bar, even if he was the only one who bore the weight of the people pushing and pulling against us. His body was painfully and deliciously too close that I could barely think nor breathe. Really, now, I don't suppose this is the 21st century Romeo and Juliet.

By some miracle (and I have to thank fate for this because we managed to stay in one piece), we finally reached the exit where he gingerly let me out first before going out as well. I watched him as he fixed his green polo and wiped the dirt from his pants. He had long, thin hands that managed to smooth the creases in his clothing. I was a sucker for hands. When I had dated (which was a long time ago, I assure you), I liked to watch guys work with their hands. I mean, it's silly, but I could learn a lot from a person by observing his hands.

By the way his hands gently fixed his black tie, I could guess that he likes being neat and tidy. And he's not impatient or aggressive, because he takes his time in trying to arrange himself. But I think he's not such a control freak, because he raked his chocolate brown bangs with those long fingers, just to make it messy. Does he freaking do that on purpose? Because he looks hotter with messier hair – oh _fuck._ What am I thinking?

Gosh, he is _too_ sexy.

And I don't even know his name.

This is so wrong.

When he was nearly done fixing himself, that's when I realized that I must have looked a mess myself. And I haven't even done anything but stare at him. Geez! I haphazardly fix my blouse that wasn't tucked anymore into my skirt. The zipper of my skirt was even in front! Damn that stampede. I fixed myself as fast as I could, and I could feel his eyes on me. _Great._

He's neat and gentle, and I'm impulsive and aggressive. I wish I was over reading, so that I would be wrong. We won't be compatible if I'm right, then.

Oh, why am I even thinking of _that_possibility? I'm such a retard. _Shit._

The noise died down and I was still looking at my shiny black stilettos Tomoyo bought me for my birthday. I don't like wearing heels, so it's the first time I wore them. My feet hurt, and I could see red marks against the pale skin of my feet.

It's too quiet. I guess I should start a conversation, so as not to look so stupid. I cleared my throat and looked up at him.

"T-thank you," I stammered, managing a smile to hide my nervousness. That was really that best that I could do, because he looked too darn handsome that I couldn't even think straight.

"I'm sorry," he replied, looking at me with apologetic eyes. "Did I scare you?"

So he thought me looking away meant I was scared? Sir, I think you were mistaken. In normal circumstances, a complete stranger holding one's hand and leading her out the bar would obviously make the girl think the guy had some plans. I don't even want to enumerate the possibilities. But that was _for_ normal circumstances.

Well, this isn't.

I shook my head, because I couldn't find the words to explain how I felt. Or how I should _not_ feel. I looked down at my stilettos, counting the number of blemishes peeking from my feet. One near the edge of my shoe, two near my ankle-

"I really am sorry," he continued, breaking me from my retarded counting. "but I couldn't help but hold your hand."

_It's no problem, really, because I liked it._ _The thing is there is no way you could like me back, because I'm a nobody._

"It's OK," I mumbled quickly to save myself from speaking my thoughts out loud. "I think I should go now."

"Wait!" his hand was suddenly on my wrist, gently urging me to stay. I looked into his dark eyes and wanted to do what exactly what he wanted – anything he wanted, really – but I knew this was bad. I can't fall anymore. I can't get hurt anymore. I had made a pact with myself. I swore to myself. This wasn't just some pinky promise I could break to some gorgeous guy I met in a bar, of all places.

"I'm not a stalker," he explained gently, as if reading my thoughts. And by all means, he was _not_ letting my hand go. "And I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear. I know I sound like that, but hear me out, please."

I didn't look up because I didn't know what to say. He continued, nonetheless. "When I saw you, something stirred inside me. Call it love at first sight, or attraction, if you will. All I know is that, I don't want to let you go. You've already left a mark on me."

I gulped. That was what_I_ felt, not the other way round.

His eyes bore into mine, the dark brown pools looking into the depths of my emerald eyes. It was like he could read minds, because he smiled before he spoke again, as if he found something fascinating with my expression. This time, his voice was very gentle, and it made my heart flutter.

"And I think I left the same mark on you."

_Frick_. He could really read minds. And thanks to my bewildered expression, his smile grew wider. Damn, I just confirmed his hunch. And if you think the most handsome guy on the planet can't get any more handsome, think again.

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

"So, would you like to have some coffee?"

O.O

shika: So, how'd it go? I am seriously thinking of adding chapters... but it depends on what you think. Do you want this to continue? Review please! Thanks! :)


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